His youth had been spent in the fields, much to his tutor’s disdain; rather than the stuffy, musty room of the castle, a cool glade was his choice place of study. One of the numerous creeks that fed the Serpent River babbled beside him as he lay on a soft grassy place reading his books; he’d learned the basics of grammar and history quickly, laying them aside for stories of his early contemporaries, of the mighty Beorn and his wars with Garret, a terrible beast of days long past. His moss-colored eyes misted over, as the scenes of the fight danced through his ten-winters-old mind. He watched intently as Beorn took up the magic-imb